I Am Trying Very Hard to Be Here
by Riesx
Summary: What happens in the in-between? Multiple drabbles taking place in my headcannon. Spoilers for the whole series, but mostly S8.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had a few ideas after "Goodbye, Stranger" and they just snowballed! Filling in some scenes here and there. Many more chapters coming!**

This is the way it ends for Castiel.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

A small, keening cry escapes the lips of the 50th Dean he has been forced to kill and it all but bowls him over.

Naomi emerges from the shadows as he gently takes this fake Dean (_this…this **mockery**_) in his arms and lowers them both to the warehouse floor. The tiles are cold and unforgiving under his thin slacks that have somehow escaped being stained by the never-ending blood and bile.

He should be wading in gore by now.

She cleans him up every time.

"Castiel, that was excellent. Almost no hesitation, yet-"

He waits for it. The thing he did wrong. The mistake he must amend. Her voice is a tinny grating in his mind and all he wants to do is bow his head and hold the man he loves and pretend he cannot feel.

Angels make wonderful psychiatrists. They know just how precisely to break each other down. She hovers and sighs deeply, compelling him to meet her eyes.

"I don't. I, I…." _I can't remember how he smells_, Castiel thinks. _I am forgetting him piece by piece. _

Each killing is a small crucifixion of his soul. Every step they take down this road breaks off a jagged part of his heart that he swallows.

What is he now? Bitter tears….a hollow vessel.

Without Dean, what is there to fill him up?

"Castiel!" This time, it is more than annoyance in her tone. She has almost lost patience.

He conjures the right word to say, "Again."

"Yes, my dear. Once more." Naomi is a blue dot in his hazy vision. "As many times as necessary."

He stands. He does not risk a glance at the Dean (_no, the __**thing. Remember **__this, Cas.). _

Silver blade retrieved and ready. He will do this and more. However many it takes, he will pay his penance to the very centime. Although, he does not think he shall ever be forgiven.

Not fully.

Dean would understand.


	2. Even the Stars Burn

"Cas, man…you okay over there?"

Dean Winchester sits on the rock of a motel bed, that feels like the difference between a firm pillow and the world's hardest stone, cleaning his gun and pondering why the angel has not spoken a word in the last hour. Not that Castiel has ever been the most verbose, but…it's odd. Even for him. It worries Dean more than he's comfortable expressing. He's been walking the line of scared down to his bones ever since, well…

Since his best friend told him he was thinking of offing himself.

Castiel is silently staring out the first floor window and Dean casually glances over, noticing that he's listening to Sam's iPod. _Huh, it probably calms him, Sammy's probably got a lot of opera and Backstreet Boys on that thing._

Speaking of Sam, he has been in the bathroom for awhile….brushing his teeth twenty times or flossing his butt crack or whatever he does that always takes _forfuckingever_. They left for dinner, what….an hour ago?…and Cas has been at the same damn scarred table, holding the same damn pose, like the world's most patient model.

Curiousity overtakes Dean, as it always does, and most likely always will. He rises and crosses the two feet to sit at the other wooden chair, facing the angel and putting a fingertip on his wrist. Lightly, just to let him know he is there. It's their private symbol from Purgatory, where at some moments, the slightest sound could give them away. Castiel smiles wanly at the rare delicate touch, pulls his eyes away from the scenery and latches on to Dean with eyes so blue, he believes he would willingly drown in them.

"Dean." Softly. Like a prayer or the thing he is most fond of in the world….

That is how he says the hunter's name now.

Dean catches his breath. The sinking sun makes a nimbus of red and orange and gold around Cas' hair and it's as if his whole head is aflame. An eerie halo of fire that will soon be extinguished by the night, by all the darkness between dusk and dawn.

Castiel is purring. At least, that's what it sounds like to Dean, who is allergic to cats, but likes them nonetheless. Okay, maybe he's a little afraid of them too, but c'mon...the claws and...the freakin' fangs...

"Hey, what are you listening to?" He can't think of anything better to say, all his thoughts flown up and out. "Opera? The Stones…please, tell me it's not N'Sync, dude."

"No," Cas takes the earbud out of his left ear and holds it out to Dean. "Listen. I am finally beginning to understand what people mean by…"this song 'gets me'".

Dean takes the bud and sticks it in his own ear, now realizing how near they are to each other. How, if he really wanted to (and he **does**….), he could kiss this angel. Breathe a little of him into his soul. He listens, and it is clear now that Cas was humming along to the song.

**I won't give up on us. Even if the skies get rough…**

_Holy shit and hellfire, is he telling me how he feels through a song?_ Dean makes to move away, cheeks reddening as if he has just been asked to senior prom by the universe's nerdiest angel.

Dean does not do romantic, even as much as he does not do cheesy.

"Dean…" With one word, Castiel throws out his net and puts Dean back in his place. He gulps down the fear and confusion. "Just listen. Please."

He does. He closes his eyes and focuses on the music, the song that Castiel has had on replay for two hours. The lyrics have no meaning, yet mean everything. Angel humming blurs into purring into a hazy half-sleep and Dean is as calm as he's been since his soul mate has returned to him.

Ever since the grays of Purgatory became the blinding, consuming colors of Earth.

Dean hasn't understood how blind he's been until now.

Thirty minutes later, Sam Winchester exits the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth and takes in the scene before him. The sun is setting, almost gone now, and his brother and _his_ angel are sitting _thisclose_, thighs touching, holding hands…sharing freaking earbuds like a _couple_.

They both look so….happy and…

…serene.

Sam bites his toothbrush around a grin so wide it threatens to break his face. Slowly, he returns to the bathroom, shutting the door as silently as he can.

Sam mentally pats himself on the back. Yeah, giving Castiel his iPod and suggesting ever so subtly to listen to that song on replay….Best. Idea. **Ever**.

He turns the water on and decides to take an extra long shower.

They at least deserve that.

**'Cause even the stars they burn. Some even fall to the earth. We've got a lot to learn. God knows we're worth it. No, I won't give up.**


End file.
